


safe and sound

by thepsychicclam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Derek and Stiles go on the run, Future Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Feels, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Pack is attacked by an enemy Pack, Stiles and Derek end up on the run, in a stolen car, and spend the night in a crappy motel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy your fic! I tried to incorporate as many of your prompts as possible - magic!stiles, badass pack, pack feels, future, road trip, among some others. I hope this hits the spot <333

The explosion takes them by surprise. 

They’re sitting around the table in Derek’s new house playing cards, Derek and Stiles versus Boyd and Erica, when they hear glass shattering and then something lightly hit the floor. Derek reacts before his brain is fully aware of what he’s doing; he launches across the table and pulls Stiles to the floor, his arms a cage absorbing most of the impact.

The explosion thunders through the house, causing all the windows to burst and the foundation to shake. Glass flies around the room as bits of wood and furniture rain down. Derek covers Stiles, his body a shield against the debris as he clings to him.

When Derek lifts his head, he’s disoriented and confused. He surveys the room, notes the damage, but sees no immediate threat, so he turns and runs his hands along Stiles’ body to check him. “I’m fine,” Stiles says from what sounds like miles away, Derek’s hearing muffled from the blast.

He tries to get to his feet, but when he steps onto his left leg, a debilitating pain shoots through him and he cries out and starts to fold to the ground. But Stiles is there, catches him before he hits. Derek reaches behind him and extracts a long shard of wood that used to be part of the table from his hamstring.

“Is everyone okay?” Derek shouts, his ears ringing but slowly returning to normal. His leg is throbbing, and he can feel the blood soaking into his jeans.

Erica throws a bookcase across the room, and it shatters against the wall. Boyd was lying beneath it, his head matted with blood near his temple. “Boyd!” Erica yells as she rolls him over. He doesn’t respond, and his eyes are closed. Erica touches his face, his neck. “He’s unconscious.”

Suddenly, Derek hears a footstep in the yard, focuses his senses until he detects three wolves approaching. 

They’ve come for them.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Derek says, ignoring that the room is spinning around him. He suddenly feels extremely lightheaded and gets a better look around, really looks at Boyd.

“Stiles, don’t breathe in!” He starts towards the back of the house, barely able to walk on his leg that’s not healing. “It’s wolfsbane. The bomb had wolfsbane in it. We have to hurry!”

Erica scoops Boyd in her arms with little difficulty and rushes across the room. Stiles darts into one of the rooms on the way, and Derek yells at him as he listens to the footsteps of the other Pack getting closer. Stiles runs back out with a pack on his back and a book under his arm. Derek doesn’t have time to be irritated, so he hobbles along and decides to chew Stiles out later.

The other Pack bursts through the front door just as they leave out the back. One wolf is waiting for them, a mask over her face. She moves to attack, but Stiles waves his hand in front of him, and the wolf goes flying backwards.

“We need to haul ass,” Stiles says, “I can’t do that much more.”

They round the house, Derek leading the way and Erica bringing up the rear. The Camaro’s in sight, so they quicken their steps. Another wolf comes charging towards them, and Stiles pauses and pushes both hands out. The wolf goes flying the same way as the other, and Stiles falls to his knees.

“Stiles!” Derek’s leg is screaming as he turns back to Stiles. 

Stiles gets to his feet shakily and yells, “Run! I’m fine!”

Erica throws Boyd into the back of her car as Derek tosses Stiles the keys to the Camaro. Stiles drops into the front seat and starts the car. Derek glances over at him and notices that Stiles’ skin is ashen and clammy, but Stiles grips the steering wheel with sure hands as he guns the engine, the wheels spinning on the dirt driveway as he zips the car around, slinging them with it. He stomps on the accelerator and flies down the long driveway leading out of the woods. Derek looks over his shoulder to make sure Erica is following.

Stiles digs out his cell phone and hits the speed dial for Scott. “Dude, we’ve been attacked.”

Derek zeroes in on their conversation so he can listen to Scott’s response. “We’re cornered in the basement of Allison’s house. I’ll call you when we’re free.”

The call ends and Stiles looks from the phone to Derek. “What in the hell is going on?”

Derek’s fading, now that he’s sat down and stopped. “We need to find somewhere safe to patch up,” Derek says, though each word pains him. “The adrenaline’s causing the wolfsbane to circulate faster.”

“But the others!” Stiles exclaims, but when he pulls his eyes off the road long enough to look at Derek, his mouth turns down into a frown. “Fine. We’re no good like this.”

Derek slips in and out of consciousness as Stiles drives. He half-listens to conversations with other members of the Pack, and from what he can gather, Cora was with Lydia and Isaac when it happened, and Danny was with Scott and Allison, and Jackson was alone at the gym. They’re all okay, though all beat up. 

Stiles takes them to an abandoned warehouse in downtown they’ve had set up as a safehouse for years. Stiles puts a supporting arm around Derek’s waist and helps him inside the warehouse, and Erica carries Boyd inside. Derek slumps against the wall and passes out.

*

When Derek comes to, Stiles is bent over Boyd, Erica pacing nervously behind him. Jackson’s in a chair with a healing cut on his cheek and arm.

“Shit, how long was I out?” Derek asks, jumping to his feet and instantly regretting it. He sways for a moment as the dizziness passes. His leg twinges, but he can tell it’s half-way healed.

“Only about fifteen minutes,” Stiles says. Derek comes over to stand beside him. Stiles is covering Boyd with a thick paste made of different herbs. A makeshift IV is set up pumping a clear solution into his arm.

“You did all this in fifteen minutes?” Derek asks.

“We helped,” Erica explains. “Jackson was already here when we arrived.”

Derek reaches out and runs a hand over Erica’s hair. “How are you?”

She shrugs. “I had a few minor hallucinations, but Jackson helped me through them while Stiles worked on you and Boyd.”

Derek nods at Jackson. “What happened to you?”

“Two guys cornered me in the weight room. I knocked one out before I got into it with the other. I barely got away.” Now that Derek is closer, he can see dried blood all over Jackson’s clothes.

Derek turns to look at Boyd, who’s laid out on a table. Stiles has removed Boyd’s shirt and covered his chest, abdomen, and arms with the paste, and half a bag of the solution is gone. “What are you doing?” Derek asks.

“Trying to draw the wolfsbane from his system,” Stiles responds. “He was closest to the bomb, so he got the largest concentration. Compacted with the bookcase that fell on him and knocked him unconscious…” 

Derek can feel the anxiety coursing through Stiles’ body, the erratic thoughts and underlying panic. But nothing in Stiles’ body betrays his feelings. His hands are steady as they work, his face focused with concentration and his shoulders relaxed. Derek places a hand on the small of Stiles’ back and brushes a kiss against his temple.

The rival Pack, the Bower Pack from Wyoming, had moved into the territory a few months ago. They had been suspicious from the start, Derek more than Scott, because somehow even after all the things they’ve faced over the last few years – more hunters, endless monsters drawn to the Nemeton, and even Jackson’s return and the revelation that everything they _thought_ had happened with the Alpha Pack had been an elaborate mind game – Scott still was more trusting and optimistic. It’s taken awhile, but Derek now understands that’s what made them such a good team over the past few years. Even though Derek was a Beta, the pack was basically the Hale-McCall Pack these days.

The Bower Pack had been trying to take over the Beacon Hills area since they arrived. They’d outright challenged the Pack, unwilling to accept Scott’s status as an Alpha since he hadn’t achieved it through deeds, and believing Derek was weak since he’d fallen to a Beta. Those things combined with the fact that half the Pack was full of humans made them seem like an easy target.

The Pack had proved them wrong.

But the Bower Pack had kept on coming at them. This latest attack, it was sneaky and underhanded and hit them hard. They had lost this round. 

Stiles’ phone rings in his pocket, but his hands are covered in herbal paste, so Derek reaches into Stiles’ pocket to pull out his phone. 

“Hello?” 

“Derek?” Scott answers. “What’s happened to Stiles? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Derek says as he rubs a hand down Stiles’ back. 

“Is everyone okay?” Scott asks. Derek can hear Allison talking in the background. 

“Boyd’s unconscious, but Stiles is working on him. Erica and Jackson are also here. What about on your end?”

“Fine. They tried to get my mom at the hospital, but she locked herself in a room until we got there.” 

Derek glances at Stiles, then asks, “What about the others?”

“Haven’t heard from Allison’s or Stiles’ dads.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, “Did you talk to your dad?”

“No!” Stiles turns around, slinging paste across the room. A bit gets on Derek’s cheek. Stiles’ determined focus quickly dissolves into full fledged panic. “Why? Is he okay? Oh god. Let me talk to Scott.” He reaches for the phone, but Derek leans out of reach. Instead, he puts the phone on speaker. “Scott! What’s wrong with my dad?”

“Nothing. No one’s heard from him.”

The strength of Stiles’ emotion crashes over Derek, and he steps closer and puts a hand on Stiles’ neck. Stiles looks at Derek helplessly, then at Boyd. “He’s at work, I can try to call him, and if he doesn’t answer – “

“I’ll go find him,” Scott says. “You keep working on Boyd.”

“Scott, please find my dad,” Stiles says quietly, his voice pained. “If they’ve done anything to him…”

“I promise, I’ll find him.”

Stiles turns back to Boyd, a little more unsteady than before. Derek puts the phone back to his ear. “Meet us at the safehouse when you find him.” After the call ends, Derek slips the phone back into Stiles’ pocket and slips his arms around his waist. He nuzzles his face into Stiles’ neck, his lips trailing across his skin. Then, Derek presses a kiss against the vein in Stiles’ neck; he can feel Stiles’ erratic heartbeat pounding against his lips. 

“Your dad is fine,” Derek whispers against his neck. “Scott’s going to find him.”

Stiles’ hands pause over Boyd, and for a moment, they start quivering again before Stiles flexes his fingers and they steady. “I know.”

The skip in his heart betrays the lie. Derek just gently takes Stiles’ chin so he can turn his head and kiss him.

Derek, Erica, and Jackson discuss possible strategies for retaliation while Stiles finishes up on Boyd. It takes another fifteen minutes, but soon Boyd is conscious, though weak. Erica is by his side, clinging to his hand and looking wrecked.

They all look like hell. Now that Stiles is no longer focused on Boyd, he’s slowly unraveling. “Why hasn’t Scott called?” Stiles asks for the tenth time. “He should have called by now. Why isn’t my dad answering his phone?” 

“Stiles,” Derek says in exasperation. Stiles’ anxiety has his nerves on edge, and mixed with his own adrenaline and worry, Derek is stripped down and pulled tight. Everything is grating on his nerves. “You’ve got to calm down. I can’t take the pacing and the incessant questions.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my brand of worrying isn’t good enough for you. How about I sit over in the corner and just brood like an asshole?” Stiles snaps.

Derek grunts. “That’s not what I meant. But if I have to watch you pace across the room one more fucking time…”

“I swear to god,” Jackson groans from the chair. “I thought once you two started fucking you’d mellow out, but I think it’s worse now. I cannot sit here and listen to a bloody lover’s spat until McCall calls us.”

Stiles stops and glares at Jackson. “You do realize how much of a douche you sound like when you use those British slang terms. Just because you lived in England for two years doesn’t make you British.”

“Shut up, Stilinski.”

“Still a douche.”

“Ohmigod, will you all just shut the fuck up?” Erica yells. “I’m going to claw out all of your eyes if you don’t!”

Everyone starts yelling over each other, but the wolves all stop at the same time and just look at each other. 

“What?” Stiles asks, and Derek catches his eye and shakes his head. Derek can make out four heartbeats and the scents of the Bower Pack. He glances around at the others, weak and still recovering. There was no way they could go head to head with them.

“I can walk,” Boyd says, getting to his feet. 

“Think we can get to the cars before they catch us?”

“I have an idea,” Stiles says, looking up from where he’s been chewing on his thumb. “If we can get them inside and you outside, then maybe I can trap them inside the building long enough for us to get away.” He goes over to a cabinet and rummages around inside. Moments later, he pulls out a large canister of mountain ash.

“Erica and I can distract them while Derek and Boyd sneak out the back and Stilinski does his thing,” Jackson says. 

“No,” Derek says. “I’ll do it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jackson argues. “You were unconscious half an hour ago.”

Derek flashes his eyes at Jackson. “I won’t allow you – “

“Stop being stubborn,” Jackson growls, his eyes just as blue as Derek’s.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Erica says, grabbing Jackson’s arm and dragging him towards the front of the building. Over her shoulder, she yells, “You better protect my boyfriend, Derek, or I’ll make you into a rug.”

Refusing to admit this is the better plan, Derek and Boyd sneak out the back of the warehouse while Stiles starts spreading mountain ash along the back perimeter, leaving just enough space for Jackson and Erica to slip out of the door. Derek and Boyd creep around the corner, along the edge of the building. They can hear Jackson saying something rude to the other Pack, followed by a cutting quip from Erica. The other guys respond, and then Derek hears Jackson yelling, “Get ready, Stilinski!” as he and Erica run towards the back of the warehouse.

Derek and Boyd take off towards the cars, but when they arrive, they notice that the tires have been slashed.

“Fuck!” Derek growls as Jackson, Erica, and Stiles come from the back of the building. “The tires have been slashed!”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate before he runs towards the front door of the warehouse and slams it shut, and then spreads mountain ash in front of it. By the time he finishes spreading it around the front of the warehouse, the people trapped inside are growling and banging at the doors. They attempt to break through the windows, but they can’t get out because of the invisible barrier. Derek is silently thankful that the sides of the building have no windows. It’ll take them significantly longer to break through the reinforced sides they’d put into place.

“We need to run,” Jackson suggests.

“What about Stiles?” Erica asks.

“Derek can carry him,” Boyd says.

Stiles is on his knees, digging through the backpack. He pulls out a jar and unscrews the lid. 

“What’s he doing?” Erica asks.

“Stiles! We need to go!” Derek yells.

“Give me a minute,” Stiles mumbles in irritation. He’s all focused concentration again as he walks towards the front door of the warehouse. He dips his fingers into the mixture and smears it over the door in unfamiliar symbols.

“Let’s steal a car,” Jackson says.

Boyd snorts. “And just exactly how would we do that? None of us know how to steal a car.”

“Dammit, I knew I should have learned how to do that,” Erica says. 

Derek’s watching Stiles apprehensively. He doesn’t like him being that close to the other Pack, even though the mountain ash is keeping them separated. But his protective instincts are bristling, his wolf wanting to grab Stiles by the neck and drag him to safety. But Derek just inhales as he edges closer to Stiles and lets him do what he’s best at. But it doesn’t make it any easier to idly stand by.

The sound of a car rumbles in the distance, and Derek looks down the road as two headlights cut through the darkness. The closer it gets, the clearer the scent of _Pack_ gets. 

It’s Cora.

“Get in!” she yells from the open window when she slams on brakes. Lydia and Isaac are also in the SUV, and Jackson, Erica, and Boyd immediately rush over and jump in. “Derek, get your ass in gear! Stiles! Come on! I won’t be able to keep them off my tail for long.”

“Stiles!” Derek rushes up to him, fully prepared to drag him to the car if need be.

“Almost done,” Stiles answers distractedly as he puts the finishing touches on the symbol. “There.” Derek bends, grabs Stiles in a fireman’s carry, and runs across the parking lot as fast as his legs will carry him. He gently shoves Stiles in the back of the SUV, and he’s gripping the edge of the doorframe when Cora hits the accelerator and takes off, nearly slinging him onto the pavement.

“There’re are two cars following us,” Cora explains. “They sent out a second group after everyone.”

“The little bombs I threw at their cars should keep them occupied for awhile,” Lydia says. “Isaac has impeccable aim, and I make a mean incendiary device.”

“How did they know about the safehouse?” Boyd asks. “No one knew about that.”

“Maybe they followed you,” Isaac says. “That’s what happened with us.”

“Well, we can go to my house and regroup,” Lydia says. 

Stiles shifts where he’s squeezed between Derek and Erica and pulls out his cell phone. His hands are shaking, and his fingers are covered with the red dye. Derek takes the phone from him and dials Scott’s number.

“What did you put on the door?” he asks as he waits for Scott to answer.

“Symbols that will hold those guys in there until someone breaks them,” Stiles says. On the other end of the line, Scott answers, so Derek hands the phone to Stiles. “Did you find my dad?” Stiles nearly screams as he slams the phone against his ear.

“He’s fine,” Scott says. “He’s with my mom and Allison’s dad. They’re finding somewhere safe to lay low until we figure out what’s going on. Chris said he’s going to try and collect info on the Pack and gather some weapons.”

The relief that courses through Stiles’ body is overwhelming, and he slumps against Derek. Derek manages to get his arm around Stiles’ shoulders with some difficulty. The angle is awkward and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. Stiles leans all his body weight into Derek, and Derek takes comfort from the feel of Stiles in his arms. 

“We’ve trapped three of them in the safehouse, and Cora said there are two cars on our trail,” Stiles says. “We’re going to Lydia’s. Meet us there?”

After Scott agrees, Stiles hangs up and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder. The car ride is silent and tense. The backseat is crowded, with Derek and Stiles crammed in beside Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. The backseat is not big enough for five adults as tall as they are. Jackson’s in the front seat squeezed between Lydia and the door. But they’re safe, and that’s what Derek keeps telling himself.

Derek has dozed off when he hears Isaac yell, “Cora, watch out!”

The other car clips the back of the SUV and sends them spinning in a circle. Derek fights against the centrifugal force to wrap his arms around Stiles, trying to keep him from being slung from the car. When the SUV stops, Derek immediately opens the door and stumbles from the backseat, his hand still on Stiles. 

The Pack takes off in different directions. Derek and Stiles run down a side street; he doesn’t see where the others go, but focuses on each of them to make sure they are getting away. There were three guys in the other car, and there’s no way they can follow everyone. The farther they run, the surer Derek is that they haven’t chosen to follow them. For this he is grateful; neither he nor Stiles are at full strength, and Stiles can’t run as fast as the wolves. 

They don’t slow until they are three streets over. Derek finds an older model car on the street and busts the window with his elbow so he can get inside to hotwire it.

“Dude, I didn’t know you could jack a car!” Stiles exclaims as he glances around at their surroundings nervously. He pulls the phone from his pocket as Derek tears the plastic covering from underneath the dash. “Texts from Jackson and Lydia, and Cora and Erica. They’re fine. No word from Boyd and Isaac.”

Derek tries to remain calm as he finds the right wires to start the car. When the car has started, he brushes the glass out of the seat as Stiles runs around to the other side and climbs inside. The tires squeal as he hightails it out of the neighborhood. When he’s on the main road, Derek slows down to avoid attracting any more attention.

Stiles’ phone vibrates, and he clicks through a series of texts. “Danny says he’s figured out how they keep finding us,” Stiles relays. “The Pack is somehow monitoring our cell activity. Shit!” Stiles drops it like it’s on fire. 

“Stiles, calm down. Finish figuring out what Danny knows.”

Stiles scrolls through the texts. “He said to ditch the phones and Allison is instituting Code 17.” Derek tosses his phone out of the hole where the window used to be, but before Stiles tosses his, he shoots a quick text to his dad letting him know he’s okay. 

After the mess with the Alpha Pack was resolved and they dealt with the fallout of the Nemeton, Derek and Scott gathered with Allison to devise contingency plans for various scenarios. Derek was hesitant to align himself with hunters – especially Argents – but Allison and Chris proved to be valuable assets. Allison was a born leader and strategist, and viewed everything as a large chess game. She thought two steps ahead and played out every scenario. With the help of Stiles, Lydia, and Danny, she came up with a list of possible situations. 

“Code 17,” Stiles says as he taps a frantic rhythm on his knee. His entire body is vibrating with leftover adrenaline, and he’s mumbling to himself. “I don’t like this. I don’t like the thought of being out of contact with everyone until tomorrow.”

“You know it’s the best way to get everyone off our trail,” Derek says gently. “Scatter and disappear, then come back together stronger and with a plan.”

“I know the theory behind it,” Stiles snaps. “I helped devise the fucking strategy. I just never actually thought we’d ever have to use it.”

Derek reaches over, grabs Stiles’ hand, and threads their fingers. As Derek rubs his thumb in circles on the pack of Stiles’ palm, Stiles calms some, enough that he stops beating his knees. After a few miles, Stiles turns the radio on and cranks up the rock music. 

Derek tries to not panic as he drives down the dark roads. He’s left the freeway and started down county roads, trying to lose any trail they may be leaving. Code 17 protocol dictates that they find lodging someplace for the night and reconvene at the rendezvous point at 8 a.m. the next morning. But that means just over twelve hours of sitting and waiting with no means of communication. He chances a glance at Stiles, and knows that there is no way Stiles will be calm or collected for the rest of the night. 

But Derek’s worried about the rest of the Pack. He hates that they scattered and got separated, but at least he knows most of them are okay. But they still hadn’t heard from Boyd or Isaac…Derek shakes his head, forcing himself not to dwell on what may or may not have happened. He’ll deal with whatever happened when he knows for sure. He’s learned there’s no sense in “what ifs”.

He’s also worried about the Bower Pack. They’ve underestimated them every step of the way. They’ve tried negotiating, tried reasoning with them. Scott still operates under the “let’s not kill people” rule, but Derek is afraid that this is a situation where that might not be feasible.

But at the moment, it’s not worth worrying about. Right now, he’s got to focus on getting them to a hotel and keeping them safe. He needs to focus just on Stiles.

*

The motel is a small, rundown place three towns away from Beacon Hills; Derek thought the busy streets and smells of a city might mask their scent if followed.

He pays with the cash Stiles had in his bag. The room is stale and smells like smoke, but it looks clean enough otherwise. There’s one large bed, beside it a nightstand with an ancient lamp on top, an old tube TV on a cheap dresser, and a broken microwave. 

“Charming,” Stiles says sarcastically when they open the door. “Aren’t you going to carry me across the threshold?”

Derek rolls his eyes as he tosses the fast food sacks on the nightstand. He locks the door, and Stiles pulls the container of mountain ash from his backpack. He covers the sill of the window and the bottom of the door with mountain ash before sitting down. 

“You’re stuck in here with me,” he jokes with a tight smile. Derek huffs a laugh as he hands Stiles his burger.

They eat while Stiles flips through the channels obsessively. “Wow, this cable is so great. Only ten channels? Why yes, you _do_ have HBO like you advertise, but the rest of your choices suck. HBO is helpful if all they’re playing are TV shows I don’t watch.” He tosses the remote on the floor in frustration.

After they eat, Stiles paces back and forth around the room. Derek attempts to watch a syndicated sitcom he has no interest in, but Stiles is distracting him. “Sit down!” Derek says, rubbing his eyes. “You’re driving me up the fucking wall.”

“How can you sit there watching reruns of _Friends_ while our friends are out there? They could be dead for all we know!” Stiles stops and spins to face Derek. “What if my dad doesn’t know what Code 17 is? What if he goes back to the station and the Bower Pack kill him, or worse. What if – “

“Stiles!” Derek says as he launches himself off the bed. “You have _got_ to calm down. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.” Derek curls his hand around Stiles’ neck. “Your magic isn’t effective if you’re drained.”

“I know that!” Stiles snaps again. “Don’t you think I’ve been obsessing over that for the last hour? That if I don’t get a grip on my anxiety that I will be useless in a fight? That everyone could die because I couldn’t hold it together like everyone else. Poor Stiles, always the one who – “

Derek cuts off his ramble with a kiss. Stiles tries to resist, protests by attempting to keep talking, but the longer Derek kisses him and dips his tongue shallowly into Stiles’ mouth, the less Stiles is able to refuse him. Soon, Stiles has relaxed into his arms and is kissing him slowly yet desperately.

When Derek pulls away, he rests his forehead against Stiles’. “Go take a shower.”

“Is this your way of telling me I smell?” Stiles jokes. Derek chuckles as he massages the tight chord in Stiles’ neck with his thumb.

“No, it’s my way of telling you to try and relax.”

Stiles sighs and kisses Derek one last time before disappearing into the bathroom. He leaves the door cracked, and Derek can smell the water hitting Stiles’ skin, can feel the anxiety collecting but not dissipating. At least it’s not getting any worse.

Derek only lasts five minutes before he’s stripping off his own clothes and stepping into the tiny bathroom. He pulls the shower curtain back and steps into the tub. Stiles has his face upturned so the spray can hit him. The water slides down his shoulders and back in small rivulets that cling to his skin. Derek drags his eyes from Stiles’ wet hair down his body to the swell of his ass with water running between the cheeks, then down the backs of his legs. He’s instantly hard as the sight of Stiles in the shower and the stress of the day catches up with him.

He steps close behind Stiles and buries his face against his wet hair as he slips his arms around Stiles’ waist. Stiles makes a content humming noise as Derek trails his hands around his stomach, getting lower and lower until Derek rubs his hand across Stiles’ cock.

“Should we be doing this?” Stiles asks, laying his head back against Derek’s shoulder. “With everything that’s going on?”

Derek kisses along Stiles’ hairline and down his jaw as he wraps his fingers around Stiles’ cock and starts to stroke it slowly. “Why shouldn’t we?” Derek asks as he drags his lips along the shell of Stiles’ ear. “It beats pacing around the room. Or watching bad TV.”

“I just think – “

“Ssh,” Derek coos into Stiles’ ear. “No thinking. Just relax.” Derek tightens his grip around Stiles’ cock as he slides his fist along the shaft. His own hard cock is nestled between Stiles’ cheeks and the small of his back, and he languidly rolls his hips against Stiles.

Stiles starts off making quiet sounds, little whines and huffs of breath as Derek jerks him slowly. Derek’s thumb circles the head, tracing the ridge around it and pressing just underneath it. He drops his hand to tug at Stiles’ balls, and Stiles squirms against him, rubbing deliciously against his own cock. Derek can feel the tension slowly leaving Stiles’ body, feel his muscles relax and the glow of anxiety around him fade. Stiles is panting and his heartbeat is accelerating, but Derek knows this time it’s from his touch.

Derek’s content to just stand there with Stiles in his arms, the water growing lukewarm as it covers them. He’s kissing along Stiles’ neck and shoulders, and sucks a mark into his shoulder blade.

When Stiles gets close, his moans echo loudly in the small bathroom, and his hands start scratching down Derek’s forearms. He comes with a long moan as he bucks his hips into Derek’s hand, the come splattering on Derek’s hand and wrist before being washed down the drain.

Stiles slumps against Derek afterwards, muscles loose and relaxed. Derek takes the opportunity to wash Stiles’ hair with the cheap motel provided shampoo, then wash him thoroughly. By the time Derek’s soaping around Stiles’ balls and ass, Stiles has recovered enough to pin Derek against the shower wall and drop to his knees.

Stiles takes Derek into his mouth, and sucks him all the way down. Derek curls his hand into Stiles’ hair tightly, holding on as Stiles’ slick mouth slides over him. Stiles licks along the vein running along the length, sucks on the tip, and moves his hand along the shaft to bring Derek’s foreskin over the head over and over. 

He’s driving Derek wild.

When Stiles sucks Derek’s balls into his mouth, his hand still working over his cock, Derek’s orgasm hits him suddenly, and come falls onto Stiles’ shoulder and back before washing away. Stiles sucks him gently afterwards until it’s too sensitive and he pulls off.

Stiles stands back up and kisses Derek deeply. They kiss for a few minutes before turning off the now-cold water and getting out of the shower. They dry each other with the thin towel, then curl into bed damp and sated.

Stiles’ body is warm, and Derek wraps himself around him from behind. He relishes the feel of skin on skin, the damp stickiness of Stiles’ body against his own. Stiles’ heartbeat has slowed significantly, and although the constant thread of anxiety is still present, it’s much less than before.

“What if we can’t defeat them?” Stiles asks quietly. He’s wormed his way around in Derek’s arms so that they’re facing. He’s chewing his lip nervously, his fingers pressing random patterns into Derek’s chest. 

“We will.” 

Stiles flicks his eyes up to Derek’s, and he studies him for a moment. “Will it ever stop? I mean, if we defeat the Bower Pack, how long will it be before the next threat shows up?”

Derek rakes his fingers through Stiles’ unruly hair. He wishes he could say something to comfort him, but Stiles was right. The last five years have been nothing but problem after problem.

“I miss my mom sometimes,” Derek finds himself saying. Stiles’ looks at him with surprise at the sudden switch in topic. “When she was the Alpha, things were never like this. Things were never so bad that Laura, Cora, and I knew about anything going on. I never thought being a werewolf was that different than being human, except for the added bonus of superpowers.” Derek smiles briefly, and Stiles’ eyes soften. “If she was still the Alpha, none of this would be happening.” Derek leaves the rest unspoken. But Stiles’ special brand of clairvoyance when it comes to him has him reaching out and cupping Derek’s cheek.

“Your mother never had a Nemeton to contend with,” Stiles says. He scratches his fingers through Derek’s stubble. “She wouldn’t be disappointed, you know.”

Derek can’t respond, so he just pulls Stiles closer and kisses him.

They spend the next few hours in bed curled around one another as Stiles flips through the channels. Derek doesn’t care what they watch as long as Stiles is in his arms. Tomorrow they’d have to deal with the Bower Pack and the rest of their own Pack, but tonight they are safe and Stiles is there beside him, bitching about the believability of the case on some crime drama.

*

Stiles can’t sleep. Every time Derek dozes off, Stiles shifts around in an attempt to get comfortable until he’s huffing in frustration.

“You need to sleep,” Derek says sleepily.

“I know!” Stiles yells in frustration. He sits up and grabs the remote to start his channel surfing. Derek tries to fall back asleep, but when he realizes that Stiles is not going to get any sleep, Derek decides to stay up with him.

He yawns and stretches, then scratches his bare stomach as he leans back against the pillow. “Fine, you win. I’ll stay up with you.”

Stiles hands the remote to Derek and gets out of bed to grab the book he’d brought with him from Derek’s house. Derek ignores the television in favor of watching Stiles’ naked body cross the room. The flickering lights from the TV cast shadows on his pale skin, highlighting the contours of his body. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asks when Stiles sits back on the bed. He shouldn’t find it so sexy, Stiles naked on the bed with his legs crossed and magic book open before him. But he can’t tear his eyes away from the dark hair on his legs, his cock and balls resting between his legs. Derek just wants to touch, to taste. But he turns his attention back to the television and forces himself to let Stiles work.

But the longer that Stiles flips through the book, the more agitated he becomes. Each flip of the page starts to make him angrier, and he finally slams the book shut. “I can’t figure out anything to help!” Stiles says as he drops the book heavily to the floor. “There has to be something I can do to shift the odds in our favor.”

Derek rolls onto his side and slings an arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. He nuzzles his face against Stiles’ side, inhaling the scent and warmth of his skin. He brushes his stubble against Stiles’ belly, then drops a kiss there.

“It’s not your responsibility to win the fight,” Derek says. “You know that Allison and Scott are trying to formulate a plan right now.”

“Or fucking each other’s brains out,” Stiles jokes. “Allison always says she works better after a good fuck.” Derek snorts, then crawls on top of Stiles. 

“Think the same might be true about you?” He starts kissing down the side of Stiles’ face, along his neck and shoulders. Derek’s been hard ever since Stiles sat back down, and Stiles’ matching erection is brushing against him. Derek covers Stiles’ mouth with his own as he ruts against him, slowly as his hands explore the planes of Stiles’ skin.

Stiles’ mouth is warm and soft, and Derek falls into it easily. He’s exhausted and just as worried as Stiles, but this momentary distraction helps. Stiles’ mouth soothes him; Stiles soothes him in a way nothing has ever before.

Stiles has his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, and they’re rubbing against each other shamelessly, no lube making it impossible to Derek to fuck Stiles the way he’d like to, but this is almost as sweet. The way Stiles’ body is bowing and arching, pressing up into Derek’s as the noises escape his mouth almost undoes him. 

They remain locked like that awhile, a slow, torturous build up as they kiss and touch. When Derek finally comes, he shudders against Stiles, and Stiles isn’t far behind. They end up in the shower again, kissing sloppily as they wash the come from their skin and then fall back into bed.

This time, Stiles finally falls asleep.

*

They’re back on the road at 6:30, and stop at the local bagel shop for breakfast and the largest coffee Derek can find for Stiles. The morning air is frigid coming in through the busted window, and Stiles’ teeth are chattering by the time they’re on the road. Derek turns the heat on full blast and rubs Stiles’ hands to warm them up until they get to the safehouse on the edge of Beacon Hills.

Scott, Allison, Danny, Cora, and Erica are already there. Cora rushes to Derek and throws her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says as she clings to him. Derek inhales and breathes her in; she smells stressed and like a barn, and he hates the thought of her sleeping huddled in a pile of hay.

“I should have stayed with you,” he whispers against her hair. 

Cora glances over at Stiles, chatting with Scott and Danny. “You should be with him. He’s the most important thing to you, I get it.”

“Cora, you’re my sister.”

“And Stiles is your…Stiles,” she says, looking at him seriously. Then she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I can take care of myself.”

Derek sighs in frustration. “I know that,” he says. “But you did sleep in a barn.” He picks a piece of straw from her hair. 

“It was fine. We didn’t have a boyfriend who plans for _everything_ with us, so it’s not like we had cash for a motel. But Erica and I found a warm barn, some dry hay, and fell asleep. No big deal.” Cora cups his cheeks and smiles. “But I appreciate the brotherly concern.” She rubs her cheek against his chest before joining the others. 

Danny and Stiles crowd around a computer, trying to reverse trace the Bower Pack’s signal on their cell phones. Derek drags his fingers across the back of Stiles’ neck as he walks over to join Scott and Allison. They have spread out a map of Beacon Hills and are trying to determine a plan for attack based on the known locations of the other Pack. Cora and Erica are sorting through the resources in the safehouse, trying to decide what is usable for the upcoming fight.

Lydia and Jackson show up right before eight, and Chris, Melissa, and the Sheriff show up at eight on the dot. 

“Dad!” Stiles yells as he throws himself at the Sheriff. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine, kiddo,” the Sheriff protests, but the look on his face makes it obvious that he was just as worried. “Where’d you stay the night?” Stiles fills the Sheriff in on what happened to them the night before, and the Sheriff shoots Derek a grateful look over Stiles’ shoulder. Derek gives him a small smile. As Stiles talks, the relief overflowing from him makes Derek dizzy. 

“I’ve got information for you,” Chris tells them as he hands a jump drive to Danny. Danny works his magic, and a few moments later, they have dossiers on all of the Bower Pack members, including a list of five known hideouts.

Derek keeps watching the clock, antsy because Boyd and Isaac still haven’t arrived. But at eight thirty, they come barreling through the door, looking tired and beat up, but okay. Erica jumps into Boyd’s arms, and Cora punches Isaac before hugging him tightly. 

“Where in the _hell_ have you been?” she yells. Derek looks between them, still uneasy at their budding relationship. But he trusts Isaac, and there are few people he’d trust more with his sister. 

“We’ve been running all night,” Isaac explains. “Boyd is exhausted; he wasn’t recovered when the car was hit.”

“Are you okay, baby?” Erica asks. 

“I’m fine,” Boyd laughs, though he looks drained and run down. “Nothing that a few hours of sleep won’t cure.”

“I’ll mix you up something to help,” Stiles says, going over to the cabinets and pull down ingredients.

Isaac comes over to Derek, his arm slung around Cora’s shoulders. “We knocked one of them unconscious around eleven, and the rest of the night we dodged the other. I think we lost him on the outskirts of town around seven.”

Derek claps him on the shoulder and squeezes. He’s exhausted, but okay. Now that Boyd and Isaac are there, making the Pack complete, some of the tension slips from Derek’s body.

“Here’s the plan,” Allison tells them a few hours later. They sit around the small room, Stiles in Derek’s lap. Derek watches Allison with deep respect as he listens to her describe their plan of attack. Stiles, Scott, Chris, and even Derek pipe up with alternatives or suggestions, and after an hour of discussion, they have their plan.

Derek breathes easier for the first time since last night. If everything goes according to plan, the Bower threat will be taken care of by the end of the day and they will have their territory back. He looks around at the Pack, preparing for battle, and realizes that they may not be the typical Pack, but they are a force to be reckoned with. He knows they will succeed, because if it’s one thing they’re good at, it’s surviving as a Pack.

*

Derek’s crouched in front of Stiles and a wounded Cora. He’s wolfed out, and he’s growling at the two members of the Bower Pack staring them down. Erica was knocked unconscious earlier, and Danny and Lydia dragged her to safety behind the building where they were providing surveillance. Allison is perched on top of a building with the Sheriff, and Chris and Scott are trying to get to the Alpha while everyone else fought with the rest of the Pack. Three of the Bower Pack are already down.

“Such a pretty little human,” one of the werewolves says. “He’ll taste so good when I rip out his throat.”

Derek growls loudly, trying to remain in control. The worst thing he could do for Stiles now would be to lose his temper and focus.

When they lunge, Stiles erects a protective shield around them. The two wolves run into it, and they fall back to the ground, momentarily stunned. When the shield disappears, Derek and Cora run ahead and knock them out. Derek glances over his shoulder at Stiles, who is showing the signs of fatigue. 

“You okay?” Derek yells.

“Fine!”

They head towards where Scott is. When they arrive, they find Scott in the clutches of the Alpha, Chris nearby with a gun trained on him.

“What do we do?” Cora asks.

Derek glances behind him, to where Allison and the Sheriff are on the roof ledge above. They’re both poised and ready, but the Alpha’s claws are at Scott’s throat, and one wrong move could result in his death.

“I’ve got this,” Stiles says. 

“But you’ve been fighting all day!” Derek hisses. “Are you sure?”

“Derek, he’s my best friend,” Stiles says as he focuses on Scott’s location. “I’m sure.”

Derek gives the signal to Allison as Stiles starts murmuring under his breath. Derek knows that Allison and the Sheriff will have a small window for this to work, otherwise Scott is dead.

Derek feels the familiar crackle in the air as the magic gathers in Stiles. Stiles lifts his arms, and with a few words, he pushes a force towards them. Both Scott and the Alpha are paralyzed for only a few seconds, but Allison looses her arrow as the Sheriff takes his shot. 

The Alpha falls to the ground, and Stiles casts another spell that keeps him down. Scott walks over to look down at the Alpha, now lying bound on the ground by Stiles’ magic.

“We will kill you,” Scott says, “if you ever show your face around here again.” He leans closer and bares his teeth. “And if we hear of you doing this to any other Pack, we will come for you.”

“Consider this fair warning,” Derek growls as he snaps his teeth. “Our mercy only extends so far.”

The Alpha glares, but he nods in agreement.

*

They chase the Bower Pack from town, and Stiles immediately begins planning with Danny and Lydia for a more sophisticated security system around the territory. As Derek watches Stiles bent over a notebook with Danny, he knows this will be Stiles’ new pet project for the next few months.

After the Sheriff calls in the force and gives them the non-supernatural explanation, the Pack leaves the clean up for the authorities and drive to Derek’s house. Derek walks around the property and looks at the damage. Most of the house is fine, except for the dining room where the bomb hit. There’s a big hole in the side of that wall, and the entire room will have to be rebuilt, but it could have been worse.

“We’re going to have to help clean this up, aren’t we?” Jackson asks. Cora punches him in the arm.

Stiles comes over to Derek’s side and laces their fingers. Derek can feel Stiles’ exhaustion oozing from him, and Derek kisses the side of his head. He’s leaning into Derek, Derek supporting most of his body weight. Stiles is close to just falling to the floor. Derek glances back at the damage and knows that he can’t stay at the house for awhile; he’ll stay at Stiles’ apartment, and maybe he’ll just keep Stiles in bed for the next three days to help him recuperate.

“Just one more thing, huh?” Stiles jokes, nudging what used to be the windowpane with his toe. 

Derek looks around at the Pack already starting to clean the mess, and just smiles. 

-fin


End file.
